no walls
by Banana Flavored Lemonade
Summary: This is a story i had to write for an english assignment. yes it sounds like Gilmore Girls but this is from my own imagination. not GG but relative. What happens when Marie Craft gets pregnant at 15 and is issued an ultimatum?


(No) Walls

By Rebecca Sparkes

I blearily pried my eyes opened and rubbed them as I tried to wake up. "What is the time?" I found myself thinking as I tried to straighten my thoughts. It wasn't working. I threw my hand on top of the bed side table, grasped the alarm clock and brought it to my face so I could see the dull numbers: 4:30am.

Groaning in protest of my body's practical schedule I sat up and flung my legs over the edge of the shabby old single bed. Without opening my eyes, I stumbled my way to the 'kitchen' and turned on the hot water tap. Too hard. The warm water splashed all over my overly large t-shirt and I sighed in frustration. The water pressure here is a joke.

I looked down upon the puddle on the floor and knew right then that I'd have to clean it up as it was starting to run into the 'lounge'. I took off my shirt, leaving myself in my old, over stretched black bra and striped pyjama bottoms that were at least a size too small, if not more. Within minutes the mess was cleaned and the floor was left just as dry as it had been ten minutes earlier.

I returned to the small 'sink' that was now lightly coated by a thin layer of boiling hot water on the bottom that had come out of the running tap. I smiled a small smile at this small pleasure. Reaching into a bag that rested on the floor I extracted all the necessities. Coffee, sugar, and my chipped _New York_ mug. Milk wasn't a necessity, I could do without it.

The coffee slid down my throat as I walked around the small, empty room and gathered everything I would need. Bristled toothbrush, almost empty toothpaste, cracked hairbrush, clean top, jeans, and underwear. When everything important was gathered from my duffel bag, I made my way over to the one and only window and yanked my towel off the curtain rod that groaned in protest to the action. It was dry. Thank god for that.

I put my half-full mug (yes I am a pessimist) on the ground and laid the towel out, piling the other items I had gotten out, on top of it. I stood up, without wrapping the towel and made my way across the room. A smile lit my face as I reached the farthest corner.

In the corner there was the broken single bed, a chipped and scratched bedside table, and a cot. It was just a travel cot made out of some faded coloured pieces of material and a couple pieces of pipe. What mattered though... it was occupied. Dark hair splayed across a miniature pillow, button nose turned pink from the cool air in the room, and hot pink onesie rose and fell.

I tore my eyes away from the sleeping figure and crouched down next to it and withdrew a small pair of pants, a diaper, wipes and a clean onesie out of a baby bag. Chucking the clothes across the room, onto the towel I stood and rubbed over the figures stomach. She'd wake herself up. I walked over to the towel, folded it up with the clothes and other things inside it and put it on the bench. I leant down next to the sink and pulled a small container out of a cooler. I filled the sink with hot water and submerged the container in the water. There was a quiet noise from across the room.

I walked back over to the cot and extracted my baby girl from her prison. A little head rested on my shoulder and small arms wrapped around my neck. She was so warm. I shuffled around the room, putting all of the various bags together inside a massive European luggage case. They all fit. Barely.

After everything was organised and ready to go, I walked back to the single bed, putting down Charlotte. I was wary. Careful to avoid the spring that poked out of the fabric. Just as a precaution I put the miniature pillow out of the cot over the offending object. When I was sure she was safe I started to fold up the travel cot.

Fold after fold melded together. This had been done one too many times and it brought tears to my eyes. 'This is not what I want for her' I thought to myself and then quickly composed myself as I heard Charlotte call for me. I looked up and made funny faces at her. She started laughing hysterically. The joys of being eighteen months old.

I quickly stuffed the cot in the sack it came with and placed it with our other possessions. I went back to the kitchen and swished my now empty coffee mug through the hot water until it was clean. I tugged at the plug chain and stoically watched as the water swirled down the drain. Just like my promising future had.

Once the sink was empty I pulled the full jar out of it. The jar was warm. Good. I considered going to the case and getting out a spoon. Dirtying another spoon but it wasn't worth the time. We could work around it; after all it was only mashed pumpkin and sweet potato.

I went over to the bed and picked it's occupant up, walked over to the one patch of carpet near the door and sat down. I twisted the lid off the container and grinned to myself at my little girl's smile as the smell of food reached her nose. I scooped roughly a baby sized mouthful of the orange pulp onto two of my fingers and put them in her mouth. She hummed with satisfaction at the taste. I don't know why, this mash looked disgusting.

After spending roughly twenty minutes feeding her I squinted my eyes to see the clock in the other room. 5:25am. Shower time. I tossed the empty jar into the bin and picked up Charlotte, along with my full towel and made my way out of the small room.

I entered the common area and held the fidgety little monster closer to me. If all the rooms were full people would sleep on the floor in here. Usually it wasn't occupied. Today it was. I made it into the communal bathroom at about 5:30. Half an hour until the other residents overtook my bathroom.

There was no privacy here. All the showers were in a line with no dividers. Open for everybody to see. Every woman, man and child. A multi-sexual bathroom. The toilets were in cubicles. The change table was next to the door and simply folded open. I looked around the room again, checking under all of the cubical doors to make sure nobody was in here. Annoyingly there was no lock on the door. Probably for safety reasons.

I stripped myself and Charlotte off and turned on two shower heads, pointing them towards each other so that the water met in a 'V' shape to cover more area. I set the water to warm. Not hot enough to burn young skin but not cold enough to freeze older skin. The shower was glorious. Warm, comforting. An escape.

After the shower, I dried the both of us off with our ratty towel and placed Charlotte on the dry tiled floor to roam in all her glory. Not preferable but it was nearing 6:00am and I didn't want to be nakedly dressing my child when people started flowing into the room. After I dressed I folded the change table out of the wall and grimaced at the dirty surface. Placing my pyjama pants on the plastic I laid my daughter on them and got a nappy ready. After dressing her in an orange onesie with stretchy denim pants over it I dried our hair.

Just as I was brushing her fine hair out the bathroom door opened, almost hitting us in the process. Doris, an older lady walked in and smiled as she made her way over to a cubical. I sighed happily. Doris may be crazy and senile but she was preferable to some of the other people here. After the near miss I hurried up my efforts and was out of the bathroom by (according to my internal clock) 6:10am.

I got us, and our belongings back up stairs and shoved the used items in the case. I looked around the room once more as I readied myself to wheel the case, and our life out of the room, yet again.

Once I had wheeled us out I sat Charlotte on top of the case and had her hold onto the sides of the handle. I may look careless but I made sure she was safe. I struggled to lug everything into the creaky lift but managed and soon we were in the lobby, standing in front of a middle aged woman with greying brown hair. I smiled at her and went to reach for an _extension _form.

There was a sign on top of the stack. It informed me that they were already full for the next week. My world started falling down. What was I going to do now? The kind lady told me that, although they were full for the next week I could fill out an extension for the week after next and be first on the list if somebody didn't turn up that coming week. I did it.

**Birth name of inquiring resident: **_**Marie Craft**_

**Number of occupants attending: **_**2**_

**Age of inquiring party: **_**17 years, 10 months**_

**Weeks previously occupied: **_**57**_

**Please note: all occupants must agree to the terms and conditions of temporary residence of **_**Hope House Inc.**_

**Terms and Conditions:**

**One week stay max. (All extensions must be made via contract re-submission)  
>$35 payment due prior to occupant's entrance into contract.<strong>

There was more on the form but I already knew the drill. _Hope House_ was one step away from homeless shelters. It was Charlotte's and my only home and trust me, a home it wasn't. You paid weekly and had to leave for at least twelve hours in between stays.

How did I get here? Well I got pregnant when I was fifteen after a night of big mistakes with my boyfriend. Society frowned upon pregnant teens and my parents gave me an ultimatum. Leave or give my baby up. I left.

I lived with my parents in the Eastern suburbs of Adelaide. My house was more like a mansion. My bedroom was at least twice the size of the room Charlotte and I now stayed in. I had an en-suite bathroom with doors, locks and little lavender scented air fresheners littering the room.

My mother is a prominent member of all of the highest class society groups and goes out for lunch almost every day with one of her friends. All of her frivolous parties are paid for by my father who showered us both with gifts to make up for his constant absence. For my fourteenth birthday he bought me a brand new laptop and a convertible Volkswagen I wouldn't be able to drive for at least two years. Lawyers get paid a lot. That's common knowledge.

My father works for a multi-national corporation that hired lawyers out to the worst of the worst and promised positive results in all cases. Now imagine how much my father earned. A lot more than the measly $300 I now had to live off of per fortnight.

Most of my money went to buying the necessities for Charlotte. Every pay day I would go shopping and buy diapers, food for the week, one new outfit for her, and every month a new pacifier. I didn't worry about myself until I had bought all of these items and that left about two hundred dollars. I would then put aside $70 for the two weeks payment to keep a roof over our heads. That left me with $130 that I would use sparingly to buy food throughout the weeks remaining until my next payment.

Now that I had nowhere to stay and barely any money, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to look for help. I lugged us and all of our possessions onto the bus and took a seat on the sticky bench. Public transport. We had to catch five busses over four hours and it cost me $7 to get to my destination. That left me with $50.

I dragged the case up a gravelled driveway, Charlotte sitting on my hip, playing with my hair. Not a care in the world. Once I reached the front door, I looked back to realise that I'd put an impressive groove in the little rocked path. I considered stalling more and fixing the stones into their original place but decided against it and bucked up the courage to ring the doorbell.

The big, redwood door opened and there stood a maid. I asked for the residents and rebuffed the uniformed woman's offer for me to wait in the foyer. Finally a short, skinny figure appeared before me with a not-so impressed expression on her face. It softened as I met her eyes and what looked like a suppressed smile appeared. I put in my request. Explaining that it would only be for a week and was quickly accepted into the warm house. Warm as in temperature.

I ascended the stairs and entered the open, sunshine filled room. It was extravagant. I looked around and everything was set out as it had been before, messily. I set to work, cleaning up with Charlotte sitting on the bed, watching me work.

Their efforts were fruitless in my opinion. My mother had been trying to help with Charlotte. Always wanting to bathe her, feed her and put her to bed. My father was constantly offering me money and favours I didn't want. I think they underestimated my ever present maturity. Also there was no trust anymore. They had betrayed me. My parents, my own flesh and blood had told me to give up part of myself or struggle my way through life. It was too easy here, too comfortable.

You could feel the comforting air that each of my parents let off. I didn't like it, it wasn't comforting. It was uncomfortable for me. Unusual and it felt unnatural.

That night I lay there, taking everything into consideration and deciding that I liked having no money better than having a lot of money. Money puts up walls. Walls divided. Just like society. I fell asleep thinking, 'I don't like walls. I don't like money. I don't like society. I want to go home.'


End file.
